The Punisher's Son
by ThexDayxWalker
Summary: A short story written in free time about a boy taken in by the Punisher. It's a one off for the moment, hope you all enjoy it.


The sound of clattering metal echoed though the peach colored skies while the sun slowly sank behind the roof of a local grocery store. In the center of the parking lot strode a young man. His broad shoulders supported an orange safety vest which was worn over a tan polo shirt. From his waist hung a pair of green cargo shorts. Brown work boots thumped against the pavement as he pushed near a dozen carriages towards the front doors. Sweat beaded his pale skin, as his dark eyes scanned the lot for cars and foot traffic. His dark hair swayed about his ears as he finally made it into the building and tucked the carts into their rightful place.

Returning to the lot he swept through one of the rows of cars, when he overheard part of a conversation coming from behind a large SUV. Appearing from in front of the car the young man looked over to see several Hispanic men standing in a group. As he looked at them the men looked back. Of the three men one stood near six and a half feet, dressed in a basketball jersey, and baggy jeans fell limply onto his sneakers. Beside him stood a hefty man, too dressed in a basketball uniform, The second man wore a pair of shorts.

On the opposite side was man of average build, wearing a pair of jeans and a graphic tee shirt. A sideways baseball cap rested upon his head. The trio stared at the young man as he approached them.

"Hey, yo, homeboy," one of the men shouted as the young man passed by, his voice gave hint to contained rage. Complying the young man carefully strode over to the costumers. As he approached them he watched as the tallest of the group pulled back his arm, and with a quick shout let the pent up rage explode through his muscles. Emotionless the young man continued forward before he dropped down avoiding the punch. From his bottom pocket he drew forth a pen. Clicking down the point of the pen popped out before he came up, and drove the pen into the arm of his attacker.

A scream of pain silenced the lot as the wounded man reeled back, before he tore the pen from his arm. From beside him the hefty gangster lunged forward, too attempting to land a punch upon the youth. With a smirk upon his face the young man rolled backwards avoiding the blow and watched as his attacker stumbled forward. Pivoting around the gangster the young man wrapped his arm about his neck. With his free hand balled into a fist the young man repeatedly drove his knuckles into the man's face, drawing forth a well of blood from deep within the man's nose.

Letting go of the hefty gangster the young man turned and watched as the third man rushed him. Following in the footsteps of his predecessors the assailant attempted to strike down the young man with his fists. Shaking his head in disbelief the young man caught the man by his wrist. Twisting the man's arm about the young man pinned his appendage to his back before he slammed the man head first into the window of the SUV. Blood splattered across the glass as the man shouted in pain before the young man let him go and stumbled back. Driving his knee into the man's stomach the young man watched the man double over.

In one swift motion the young man opened the car door before throwing the keeled over man towards the interior. As he stumbled forward the boy slammed the door closed pressing his head between the two pieces of metal. Smiling in satisfaction the young man dropped into a crouch as the tall man swung at him from behind. A hollow bang sounded as his fist struck the car door shaking the vehicle. Reeling back the man grabbed hold of his aching fist with his free hand. Before he could approach the fight from a different direction the gangster found himself laid out upon the ground. Rolling his shoulder the young man cracked his neck when he heard a voice from behind him.

"Yeah dog, there's a dude here kicking our asses, fricken punk," he said between mouthfuls of blood," yeah he broke my nose!"

Before he turned the young man watched the attacker he had thrown into the car fall out, and with him a hard plastic bottle made to look like glass. A dark brown liquid sloshed around within the bottle. Taking the bottle off of the ground the young man flipped it in the air before catching it by the neck. Rotating his hips the young man took another step forward while the gangster turned towards him. The young man's right arm whipped around and the bottle caught the gangster beneath his jaw and lifted him off of the ground. Crashing to the ground the thug lay unconscious.

Beside the man landed a lighter. When his eyes fell upon the lighter a glimmer took to them. Tearing off a long strip of the thug's shirt the young man popped off the top of the bottle and stuffed the rag inside. From the side of the store the young man heard the screeching of tires. Calmly he strode to the cement patio in front of the store, and watched as a car full of gangsters pulled in. Speeding towards their ally's car they paid the boy no mind. Opening the lighter he ignited the flame before letting it rest beneath the cloth. Wisps of smoke curled into the air as the rag lit and the boy tossed the bottle through the air.

As the car passed by the bottle sailed through the open window to land on the center console and fall into the rear seats. Screams sounded from within the car while the gangsters attempted to stomp it out. With a violent shake the car came to a halt and the gangsters from within spilled out, wrapped in blankets of fire. Falling to the ground they rolled on the hard ash fault trying to douse themselves. Looking away from the burning gangsters the young man watched as a black van pulled up in front of him. Slipping off the orange vest the young man let it fall to the ground while his coworkers watched on in astonishment from the large windows along the front wall of the store.

Pulling his tan shirt over his head he revealed the black shirt beneath, decorated with a white skull taking up most of the front. Climbing into the van he closed the door behind him.

"Isn't that my shirt?" a gravely masculine voiced asked from the driver's seat.

"Yeah dad," he sighed," all mine were dirty,"

All the man could do was laugh as he pulled away from the store and the approaching sirens before driving off into the waning hours of the day as the sky grew darker overhead.


End file.
